


Breaking Rules

by earthseed_fic



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, First Time, Futurefic, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-18
Updated: 2006-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-01 11:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseed_fic/pseuds/earthseed_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex would have to make up new rules for Clark.  Set in the rift-free future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Rules

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. "Black Dog Days" is the term Churchill used to describe his depression. 2. On British naval vessels, the crew was not allowed to have alcohol until the sun was over the ship's yard-arm.

When he moved back to Metropolis two years ago, one year after Clark started college there, Lex set three simple rules for himself.

Rule #1: Let Clark have his secrets, no matter how much the lies hurt.

Rule #2: Let Clark have his own life, no matter how much you want to keep him all to yourself.

Rule #3: Keep your feelings about Clark to yourself. It's the easiest way to keep him safe.

The first rule was shot when Clark showed up at his door one night and told him everything. The second rule went completely out the window when Lex realized how amazing it felt to spend time with Clark away from the confines and disapproving glares of Smallville. He couldn't get over how decadent it felt to keep Clark out after midnight or to buy him gifts without the fear of censure or condemnation. He was addicted to that feeling.

He never budged on rule three, though. Clark deserved better than to become intimately acquainted with the darkness always threatening to overtake Lex. What he already had with Clark--Sunday morning crossword puzzles, cold cereal and late night cartoons, Christmas at the Kents--was infinitely better than any relationship he'd ever had. That wasn't worth screwing up for anything.

Which is what he'd been trying to remind himself of two nights ago, before liquor and lust got the better of him.

Sighing, Lex glanced at his watch. 12:43. He'd been working for nearly six hours. Six hours of his life gone, and he had nothing to show for it. Nothing like being rejected by Clark Kent to screw with your work ethic.

He had a feeling deep in his gut that this was gearing up to be one of his Black Dog Days, one of those frustrating, depressing days when he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with a bottle of scotch. On his better days he could vanquish an enemy or two, launch a hostile takeover, scandalize a socialite (and maybe her husband), and charm the Planet's reporters, all before lunch. But on days like this, the Black Dog was too distracting for him to be productive.

He slammed his laptop shut in frustration and wondered just how angry a certain farmboy would be if he broke his promise about not drinking before sunset.

"Fuck it," he muttered to himself while moving to the bar for a drink. "The sun's over the yard-arm somewhere."

He sighed, eyes closed, and enjoyed the burn of the scotch as it glided down his throat. A few more of these would dull the soul-numbing ache that seemed to be his constant companion these days. Hell, he'd even try some of the home brew Jonathan kept stashed in the barn if he thought it would help. Anything to stop him from thinking, from feeling, so damn much.

But, then, that was exactly why he was in this mess in the first place.

"Mr. Luthor?" Caroline's voice startled him out of his reverie. He looked guiltily at the glass in his hand and wondered, only half-jokingly, if Clark had roped his assistant into the get-Lex-to-drink-less campaign.

"Mr. Luthor, sir?"

He walked back to his desk and settled himself in his chair before answering. "Caroline. Please tell me you're calling with devastating financial news from Hong Kong that will require the complete concentration of the CEO. We're about due for a crisis, don't you think?" He squeezed the bridge of his nose. A trip to Hong Kong sounded brilliant just about now.

"Sorry, Mr. Luthor. I'll see what I can arrange, though." Were personal assistants really supposed to sound that indulgent? "I do, however, have Mr. Kent on line 3."

He downed the last of his scotch and tried to ignore the small glimmer of hope growing in the back of his mind. Was it more important that Clark was finally speaking to him after two days or that he'd called the office instead of his cell?

"Clark. To what do I owe this pleasure?" He wanted to sound relaxed, unconcerned. But the edge in his voice was grating, even to his own ears.

"Hey, Lex. Sorry about going through Caroline." Clark sounded like he used to in Smallville, contrite for reasons he'd never explain.

"Caroline's busy, Clark. You should use the cell. That's why I gave it to you." Which means you don't have any excuse for not calling after you ran out, he accused silently.

"I wanted to make sure you weren't busy," Clark replied.

Clark's sincerity threatened to soothe his bad mood. "Clark." he said with a sigh, "I'm never too busy to talk to you."

"I didn't know what kind of mood you'd be in."

What kind of mood was appropriate after seducing your best friend and having him reject you? "What? You thought I hatched some diabolical plot to ruin your life because I've got my panties in twist over a few unanswered e-mails?" That actually sounded like something he'd do.

Clark laughed softly. Then, after a moment, "I missed you Lex."

"You have a funny way of showing it." He hoped he didn't sound too petulant.

"I just needed some time to think."

"Mission accomplished?"

"Yeah." Clark offered no more explanation and Lex was afraid to push.

"Good." He looked down and realized he was holding an empty glass. He placed it on his desk, his desire to be mercifully drunk completely gone. "You know, when you go off and disappear for two days, I start to worry."

"I was fine, Lex. I was on campus the whole time." He could see Clark rolling his eyes.

"Still. We can't be too careful. Do you remember the code word?" He couldn't help it. Really.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. What's the code word?" He wasn't testing Clark's goodwill. He was above that.

"I can't believe you're doing this," Clark sighed.

* * *

**TWO YEARS EARLIER**

Clark was at Lex's door before he realized he had no explanation for an evening that desperately needed explaining. His time in Metropolis had been blessedly mutant free until tonight. He hadn't had a moving vehicle wrap around him or a bullet bounce off him in months. His lies to Lex were lately sins of omission more than anything else.

But now, standing at Lex's door, over five hours late, covered from head to toe in soot, someone else's blood drying on his tattered shirt, he realized he could no longer avoid this conversation.

The look on Lex's face when he opened the door confirmed what he feared. Clark had been expecting the familiar look of barely concealed anger mixed with the slightest tinge of disgust. He'd seen the look on Lex's face so often in Smallville that it took a moment to realize he didn't see it now.

Lex usually registered emotion only in his eyes, and, then, only if you were looking closely. But as he stood there disheveled in bare feet and untucked shirt, a whole catalog of emotions warred for dominance on his face--anger, concern, frustration, betrayal, curiosity, and something else Clark couldn't quite name.

Lex stood there for a long moment, looking at Clark, deciding. Then, he turned without a word and headed back into the penthouse.

Clark followed him in. He watched as Lex sat on the floor in front of the stereo and opened his laptop. CDs and comic books were scattered all around him.

The sight of Lex on the floor, alphabetizing CDs and cataloging comic books, made him feel worse than Kryptonite ever did. Lex looked vulnerable, broken even. And he'd done this.

Clark stood in the middle of the room, not knowing what to say. He was exhausted from the night's events and he desperately wanted a shower. He was afraid that whatever he would say would be the wrong thing and he'd never be able to take it back.

"You missed the movie," Lex said quietly. "The guy playing Warrior Angel was pretty good. Devilicus kicked ass."

Clark walked toward him. "Lex. I'm so-"

"Don't, Clark." Lex looked over his shoulder. "When you moved, I missed you. But I didn't miss this. So, please. Don't."

Lex turned away again and Clark just stood there, staring, and he knew, knew better than he'd ever known anything, that he could never lie to Lex again. Oh, Lex would let him lie, would never demand more of the truth than Clark was willing to offer. But each lie was killing some essential part of Lex, some essential part of _them._ Clark just couldn't lose anymore of it.

There was so much that needed to be said, not just about that night, but about everything. Clark didn't know where to begin, but he needed to begin or he would lose his nerve. And maybe lose Lex. So he just said it.

"My ship came down with the meteors." Lex didn't turn around, but Clark could tell he was listening. He settled on the floor next to Lex and continued. "Dad showed me the ship not long after you hit me with your Porsche that day."

Lex's expression was impossible to read. "You're from--"

"Krypton. The planet doesn't exist anymore. It imploded. Lara and Jor-el, my Kryptonian parents, put me in the ship and sent me to Mom and Dad to save me."

"You're fast?"

"Way faster than the Porsche." Clark saw Lex's eyes dance a little at that.

"And strong?"

Clark nodded. "And bulletproof. I have heat vision and x-ray vision. I can hear really well." He paused. "And I think one day I'm going to fly." It was almost a whisper. He hadn't said it aloud before. He hadn't even told his parents yet.

"And meteor rocks are the only things that can hurt you." Lex was pushing, testing.

"Not the only thing." Clark looked away. Running fingers over the fraying edge of a hole in his jeans he thought, rather absurdly, that Lex would finally get his wish. After this, Clark definitely needed new clothes.

They sat in silence for several moments, until Clark just couldn't stand it. "Lex? Aren't you going to say anything? You must have a million questions."

Lex stared at him for several more moments, expression still unreadable. "So. You suck at Grand Theft Auto on purpose?"

Clark blinked. Then blinked again. "What?"

"I mean you must have killer hand-eye coordination." The corners of Lex's mouth quivered with a barely contained smirk.

He tried for indignant, but he just felt like crying. "That's...that's what you want to ask me?"

"Well, I'd hate to think you're really that bad, Clark. That'd be embarrassing." Lex was laughing at him. He just learned that he was living his own personal version of Close Encounters of the Third Kind and the bastard was laughing.

Clark just stared. He just wanted this day to end. He felt, rather than saw, Lex get up and offer his hand. "Come on. You need a shower."

He let Lex drag him up and lead him to the bathroom. "You know what this means, don't you?" Lex asked as he took off Clark's shirt. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Clark asked disbelievingly. How could it be nothing?

Lex took Clark's chin in his hands and tilted his head until their eyes met. "Nothing important. Take a shower," he said, then left Clark alone in the bathroom.

As the warm water cascaded over him, he cried six years of tears, tears he didn't know he'd been holding in.

Lex forgave him. Lex wanted to keep him.

That night they had Mediterranean from Cedar's and beer from Germany. Lex rambled on about the costumes in the movie ("Warrior Angel would _never_ wear rubber, Clark.") and Clark still sucked at Grand Theft Auto.

* * *

"Clark." Lex's tone was obnoxiously persistent.

"Isn't it enough that I admit there's a code word?" Clark supposed he deserved this after running out on Lex.

"Just say it, Clark."

"Fine. Obi Wan." Lex's satisfied chuckle was insufferable. "Obi Wan is our code word because you're a freak with a freakish Star Wars obsession, which has gotten out of control since George Lucas cast Ewan McGregor. Your harbor great fantasies of setting off on a grand mythic quest with a band of misfits because someone pretty thinks you're their only hope. But the closest you think you'll come to that is rescuing me from meteor rock-toting thugs who will lock me away and use me to conquer the world." Clark took a frustrated breath. "I could also add that you read too many comic books, but I won't."

"Love me, love my comic books, farmboy," Lex said seriously. After a moment, "I'm glad you called. I didn't know if you were okay after the other night."

"I'm fine," Clark said quickly. "I was actually hoping we could have dinner tonight."

"I'm throwing a party tonight. Potential investors for Cadmus." Lex sounded genuinely disappointed. That was good.

"Maybe--" Clark began.

"I could cancel," Lex interrupted. "Or you could come to the party."

"Caviar, champagne and dress shoes?" Clark scoffed. "You know I hate those things."

Clark could hear the grin. "Caroline ordered the shrimp pastries you like. The bar'll have hard cider. And it's casual dress. You can even wear your Adidas."

"Don't mock," Clark said. "They were good enough for Run DMC."

"Excuse me. I forgot you were kicking it old school." Lex grinned. "So? Will you come?"

"I don't know, Lex. You should work." He'd actually known, and then forgotten, about the party. Lex was willing to disrupt so much of his life at Clark's slightest whim. What would he be willing to give, to give up, if he knew how much Clark wanted from him?

"Why don't you come by around eight," Lex insisted. "The party will be winding down. We can have take out from the Thai place." Clark recognized that tone. Resistance was futile.

"I guess that could work." He could make it work.

"See you at eight then?"

"Eight."

"I'm glad you called, Clark," Lex said.

"Me too," Clark replied. "See you tonight."

* * *

**TWO MONTHS EARLIER**

The morning rush was just beginning as Lex finished reading through Clark's research paper. Clark had had a major attack of self-doubt the night before and finally relented and called Lex for moral support. The older man met him for coffee, power suit and game face already on at 7am.

Satisfied that his paper didn't suck and that he wasn't wasting his time as a history major, Clark let himself enjoy his time with his best friend. They'd seen little of each other over the last month--Lex had been away on business and Clark had gotten his first major assignment for the paper. They'd been in contact by e-mail and they talked on the phone every night. But that was nothing compared to being in Lex's presence, feeling the energy that radiated from him, knowing he was the envy of everyone in the room because he was the center of Lex's attention.

He realized, too late, that he was staring.

"Earth to Clark." Sometimes Clark thought Lex was the one with alien powers. He was grinning like he knew exactly what Clark was thinking.

"So. Are you going to call her?"

"Who?" Clark knew exactly who Lex meant and wanted desperately to avoid the conversation.

Lex cocked an eyebrow and leaned across the small table. He came within inches of Clark's face, so close Clark barely contained the urge to lick the scar on Lex's upper lip.

Clark was staring so intently at the scar that he barely noticed when Lex was back in his seat, waving a napkin at him. He patted his shirt pocket and realized the number the barista had slipped him was gone.

"You saw that?" he said sheepishly.

"You should go for it. She's cute."

"True." Lex's efforts to get him laid hadn't stopped once they'd moved to Metropolis.

"You've been on four dates in the last three years."

Lex didn't even look embarrassed at how easily he could call up that information. "Four? Really? I'm doing better than I thought."

"I'm just looking out for you," Lex said. "Opportunity is knocking." He slid the napkin to Clark.

"I don't know, Lex." He looked across Lex's shoulder at the girl who'd given him the napkin. She was cute, even if she did lack a certain slinky charm.

"Not your type?" Lex invaded his thoughts. "The guy in the corner has been giving you the eye." Lex raised his cup in a mock toast to the gentleman in question, but there was nothing friendly in his eyes.

Lex was always pointing out what Clark tried hard to ignore. People in Metropolis found him much more attractive than anyone in Smallville ever did. That only made things worse. Being alone was much easier when nobody wanted you.

"Hey? What's up?"

"Ever since Lana, I've just kinda figured...Some people are just made to be alone, Lex."

"Clark." Clark knew that look. It was the look Lex got when he accused him of being a superbrooder.

"It's true," Clark insisted. "I could never get close to Lana because I couldn't tell her the truth."

"Don't you think you're overreacting," Lex sighed. "This is just a phone call. Dinner and a movie with the coffee girl."

"It can't ever be just a phone call," Clark said seriously. "There's always the possibility that a phone call will lead to something more, but I can't have more. I can't let someone get into a relationship with me blind. And I can't exactly tell every cute barista that--," he lowered his voice, "--that I'm not from around here."

Lex reached across the table and took his hand. "Did you ever think that what happened with Lana was more about her than you?" He smirked at Clark's skeptical look. "Really, Clark. Her parents were tragically killed right in front of her. Nell took off to Metropolis. Henry Small came and went. Chloe and Gabe were good to her, but never really family. Maybe it wasn't honesty she wanted from you. Maybe she wanted some sign that she was important enough not leave."

"What are you saying? That I just imagined how much I hurt her by lying to her?" Clark was indignant.

"No," Lex said quietly. "I'm saying you can't let what happened with a 16 year old girl back in Smallville determine the rest of your life. You deserve to be happy just like everyone else. Probably more."

Clark suddenly wondered if Lex were willing to sign up for the job, then blushed when he realized he was still holding Lex's hand. "You're one to talk," he said as he took his hand back. "You're not exactly fulfilling your role as Metropolis' favorite billionaire playboy."

"I date." Lex sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee.

"No. You make public appearances." He slid the napkin across the table. "Why don't you give her a call? She's probably just using me to get to you anyway."

"Doubtful, Clark. Look in a mirror some time. Besides," Lex glanced over his shoulder, "she lacks a certain homicidal quality I've come to find endearing in a life mate."

"You're an idiot," Clark laughed.

"Yes, but I'm your idiot." Every time he saw Lex like this--relaxed, open, happy--Clark was grateful for Metropolis. "Anyway Clark. If I had someone waiting for me at home, I doubt that I'd be eager to meet you at the crack of dawn to hold your hand through a research paper crisis."

"You would choose the flavor of week over my company?" Clark asked with mock-hurt.

"Unless you start putting out farmboy, I'm afraid so," he said with a wink. Then, he looked at his watch. "I wish I could stay here all day and discuss our non-existent love lives, but I have an empire to build." Lex paused. "Dinner tonight?"

"I thought you had plans," Clark said, though he'd been hoping to spend more time with his friend.

Lex gave a slight shrug as he headed for the door. "Plans change. See you tonight."

* * *

Lex had to remind himself several times how important this party was. Cadmus was going to be the centerpiece of Lexcorp once he officially separated from Luthorcorp. It was important that he secure these investors.

Still, he couldn't help glancing at the door every few minutes in anticipation of Clark's arrival.

When Clark finally walked in, Lex breathed a little easier.

Clark caught his eyes and motioned for Lex to join him away from the crowd.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show," Lex said when he reached his friend.

Clark moved into his personal space and placed a hand on the small of his back. "I had to run a few errands. Did you miss me?" Clark's grin was wicked. That grin did nothing for his control.

Lex stepped out of the near-embrace and tried to regain his equilibrium. Avoiding Clark's steady gaze, he said, "I want to apologize for the other night."

"No apologies necessary." Clark was still grinning.

"Let me finish, Clark," Lex had been practicing. "I'd never take advantage of you. Not intentionally anyway."

"You didn't take advantage." Clark reached out and ran his finger gently along Lex's jaw line. "Everything that happened, happened because I wanted it to. If anything, I took advantage of you."

Lex swallowed nervously. Why did he feel like they were having two different conversations? "I shouldn't have taken it that far. Being drunk is no excuse."

"We can compete for the Most Deserving Martyr award later. You're in the middle of a party."

Lex looked around, surprised to see people still there. "Screw the party."

"You don't mean that. Besides, I can't stay."

"What?" Was this it? The brush off? He tried not to look as panicked as he felt.

"Don't worry. No disappearing act," Clark said as if reading his mind. "You don't need me hovering while you try to conquer the world. I'll be upstairs when you're done."

"Promise?" Lex asked, grabbing Clark's arm as he turned to go.

"Promise."

* * *

**TWO DAYS EARLIER**

Clark arrived at the penthouse, pizza (feta cheese, spinach, and walnuts for Lex, pepperoni, pineapple, and Canadian bacon for himself) and chem lab homework in hand, to find the place dark save for a sliver of light escaping from beneath Lex's bedroom door. He dropped his things and did a quick scan for intruders, but saw only Lex's skeleton sprawled in a chair, drink in one hand, a stack of papers in the other.

He approached the room carefully, not wanting to wake Lex if he were sleeping. He always suspected that Lex didn't have quite as much time to hang out as he insisted. He promised himself not to be disappointed if his friend canceled their evening.

"Lex? Are you okay?" he asked softly as he entered.

"Peachy." Lex downed his drink and shot a cold, joyless smirk at Clark.

Clark could see Lex was in a bad mood, but couldn't quite gauge the extent of it. He remained in the threshold of the bedroom, even though every cell in his body screamed to go to Lex. "What's going on?"

"Just tripping down memory lane." Lex tossed the papers he was holding on to the table beside him and Clark saw they were actually photographs. He crossed the room and picked them up.

"Aw, Lex." Lionel and Victoria. Why did Lex still have these? "Did you talk to your Dad today?"

"Nope. I was feeling...content. Luthors don't do content, Clark. I needed a reminder. Then I needed a drink." He glanced down at his empty glass with a small, sad smile. "Well, several actually."

"C'mon Lex." Clark was confused. Certainly Lex was anything but content with Victoria. It didn't make any sense that a seven-year-old picture of Lionel and a woman Lex couldn't stand would send him seeking solace at the bottom of a bottle.

He led Lex to the bed and sat him down to take off his socks and shoes. Lex sighed and ran his fingers through Clark's hair. Clark studiously ignored the heat of Lex's hand and the sensation in his groin. Every touch of Lex's lately caused this reaction. It certainly didn't help that Lex was becoming freer with hugs and playful punches. Clark was addicted to Lex's touches, no matter how friendly they were.

"You wouldn't sleep with my father, would you Clark?"

"Well, it was on top of my to do list." The hand in his hair stilled and Clark looked up to see blues eyes staring at him intently. "Of course not, Lex. I would never hurt you like that."

"Promise?"

They were back in Smallville, when Lex needed almost constant reassurance that his was a life worth living. Clark was a better friend now than he'd been back then. "Promise." He moved to sit next to Lex. "I think you should get some rest. Want me to get you anything?"

Lex shifted closer to Clark and began to lightly trace the inseam of his jeans. He leaned into Clark and whispered, "Do you think I'm sexy?"

"What?" He could barely breathe with Lex so close.

"Sexy?" Lex repeated. "Do. You. Think. I'm. Sexy?" His hand moved closer to Clark's crotch.

Clark stopped the movement of Lex's hand and said, breathlessly, "You're drunk."

"But am I a sexy drunk?" Now the smirk was nothing but wicked.

"Of course you are. The whole country thinks you're sexy. They don't put you in People magazine for nothing." Clark moved to get off the bed, but Lex was too quick. He straddled Clark and began to unbutton his shirt.

"That doesn't count. That's just the work of a well-paid publicist. I want to know if _you_ think I'm sexy. Because I think you're sex on a stick."

Clark practically came in his pants. There was something he should be doing, something mature and responsible, and he was pretty sure it was something other than suppressing a groan as Lex began an antagonizingly slow grind against his thigh.

"Have I ever told you how good you smell? Remember when you used to make deliveries to the mansion? You'd visit my office, we'd play pool or watch movies or do your homework. You know what I wanted to do? I wanted to suck you off Clark. Every. Single. Time. I wanted to throw you down on the couch and taste you and smell you and make you scream my name as you came in my mouth. It was those damn jeans and the red t-shirt. Sometimes I had to send you home so I jerk off thinking about those fucking jeans. You were so hot. God, I had a perpetual hard-on back then. Luckily," he said, taking a swipe at Clark's ear with his tongue, "I have things under control now."

"This is you in control?" Clark's voice was strained. He was having trouble recalling all the reasons one shouldn't have sex with a friend who's had too much to drink.

"Can I kiss you?" Lex didn't wait for an answer. He leaned in and kissed Clark. Gently at first, but then with more urgency. The power of Lex's kisses melted Clark back and down, and he groaned as Lex untucked his shirt rubbed his hand first across his nipples, then down his stomach, and finally down to grab his cock through his jeans. Clark bucked up and Lex moaned--and God that was sexy as hell--into his mouth as Clark started to move against his hand. Clark knew he should stop, but Lex was on top him moving and kissing, now biting and licking, and it was just all too much. He grabbed Lex's hips and pulled him roughly down so that their cocks were aligned, rubbing. Lex never stopped kissing him. He wrapped one hand in Clark's hair, pulled his head back and licked up the side of his neck.

"God. You're just so...fuck." Lex's voice was low and husky and Clark would give anything to hear Lex sound like that on a regular basis. "Come for me, Clark. I want to see it."

And how could he argue with that? He came with shudder and it was several moments before his brain could form a coherent thought.

But when he could, all he could think was, Shit. Shitfuckshit.

He moved to get up, to reciprocate, to leave, to freak out. He wasn't quite sure, but he had to get from under a drunken, dreamy-eyed Lex if he was going to regain control of this situation.

"Shh." Lex wrapped himself around Clark. "Just stay there. Let me look at you." Lex traced Clark's mouth with his fingers and leaned in for a kiss. "You're beautiful. You should look exactly like this every minute of the day." He tucked his head into Clark's shoulder, breathed in deeply, and promptly fell asleep.

Once he was sure Lex was sleeping soundly, Clark floated them both off the bed so he could slide from underneath Lex. He covered Lex up, put the scotch away, stuffed the pictures in his backpack, and sped back to his dorm.

Where he promptly freaked out.

For two days.

He'd been serious when told Lex he thought he was meant to be alone. Clark's life was impossibly complicated and even dangerous to those close to him. Clark was sure that Lex would sacrifice everything he had to protect Clark, and they were only friends. What would happen if they became more? What kind of life would he be asking Lex to sign up for?

He kept going over and over the pros and cons of a relationship with Lex, playing out countless scenarios to their logical end. But he always came back to the same conclusion--he wanted Lex Luthor. He was head over heels in love with his best friend.

It might be unreasonable and selfish, maybe even dangerous. But it if the last couple of days had taught him nothing else, they had taught him that a day passed without Lex was a stupid, pointless, wasted day. He didn't want to waste anymore days.

So, even though Lex had a crazy Obi Wan obsession and even though he wasn't convinced Lex would think this was a good idea, Clark had a plan and he was going to stick to it.

He wanted to date Lex Luthor.

Now, if he could only work up the nerve to tell him.

* * *

Lex walked into penthouse. He dropped his keys on the table in the foyer and listened for Clark. As he moved down the hallway and into the living room, he could hear Coltrane playing softly on the stereo. The lights were low and the doors to the terrace were open, letting in a cool breeze. Clark wasn't in the living room or his office, but he heard noise coming from the kitchen.

Clark turned as Lex entered. "Hey. You're just in time. Dinner's just about ready."

Lex hadn't really looked at Clark at the party. He was so happy just to see Clark that he hadn't taken time to actually _see_ Clark.

Clark wore tailored black slacks and a wine colored dress shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up, revealing tan, muscular arms. He absently brushed dark curls away from his face as he stirred, and he blushed when he caught Lex looking at him.

"What are you looking at?"

Lex nodded in the direction of Clark's feet. "No Adidas?"

Clark looked at the black Kenneth Coles Lex had insisted he buy. "A friend told me there's more to life than sneakers and work boots."

"Sounds like a good friend," Lex grinned. He walked around the kitchen's island to stand next to Clark. "You cooked? You didn't have to do that."

"It's been ages since we had a home-cooked meal."

"We eat just fine, Clark." Lex felt guilty and amused at how much Clark sounded like Martha Kent.

"I know, Lex. But in my anthropology class, we're studying this strange tribe called The Rest of the Planet. Apparently, members of this tribe prepare their own food. Even though they have restaurants and the means to pay for prepared meals, they still choose to cook." Clark was working hard to keep a straight face.

"Fascinating," Lex played along.

"I thought so, too. So I gave it a try."

"How'd it go?"

"We'll find out in a sec." Clark bumped him slightly with his hip. "Go get ready for dinner."

Lex could hardly believe that he began the day thinking he'd screwed things up with Clark. Even if Clark didn't want him, he was still here, still his friend. He couldn't really ask for more. He just needed to re-dedicate himself to not breaking rule three.

He stripped out of his suit in the bedroom. He reached for the t-shirt and workout pants he usually wore at home, but quickly changed his mind.

He went to the closet and pulled out a pair of slate grey slacks and the light grey cashmere sweater Clark had given him for Christmas. He wondered idly as he dressed if Clark liked the feel of cashmere against his skin.

He started to put on the cologne most of his dates responded to, but gain changed his mind. Clark wasn't like most dates.

He checked himself out once more in the mirror and went out to find Clark.

He was halfway down the hall when it him, like a ton of bricks.

He found Clark on the terrace. He was looking out over the city. The table beside him was set for an intimate dinner.

"Clark?"

"Lex." Clark looked at him like was everything he ever wanted for Christmas.

Lex joined Clark on the terrace. He looked from the table to Clark and back to the table again. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Are we on a date?" Lex really didn't know what answer he was more afraid of.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On how well you think it's going."

Lex walked backed into the penthouse and Clark followed. "We should talk about this."

"I feel like we've been talking about it for seven years. I don't want to talk about it. I just want you."

"It's not that simple. I'm not this strong, Clark."

Clark took him in his arms and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "You're the strongest person I know, Lex."

Lex broke out of the embrace and backed away from Clark. "I...If we...I'm never letting you go, Clark. Ever. Not even when you need to go." Clark followed him across the room. "And one day you will need to go." Lex was as sure of that as he was of his love for Clark. "I will hold on to you because my life depends on it and I will destroy anyone and anything that tries to take you from me." Lex was up against the far wall of the living room now.

Clark closed the distance between them. "You don't scare me, Lex."

"I scare myself."

"I love you. I want you. And I deserve to be happy. Remember?"

"How do you know I'll make you happy?"

"Because you already do. Every day."

"What about the other night? You left. I thought you...didn't want me." Lex winced a little at the memory of waking up alone, fearing the worst.

"I wanted you, Lex. I just needed to be sure."

"Are you? Sure?"

Clark took Lex's face in his hands and leaned in for a kiss. He took his time, learning and exploring. He grew bolder as Lex responded, darting his tongue out and across Lex's lips until Lex let him in.

With a moan he wrapped his arm tight around Lex's waist. Lex responded with a possessive kiss which he broke long enough to order, "Couch."

Clark backed them up. When they reached the sofa, Clark sat Lex down and knelt before him.

"Fuck, Clark," Lex panted as Clark undid the waistband of his pants.

"Shh. Let me." He slid the pants and boxers off and kissed his way up Lex's legs. By the time Clark got to his thighs, alternating between feather light kisses and sharp little nips, Lex thought he might go insane.

"Please, Clark."

Because Clark was nothing if not merciful, he took Lex into his mouth, sucking gently on the head.

Lex's head slammed back into the couch and he had to bite his hand to keep from coming at the first contact. He nudged his hips up slightly. He needed more.

Clark took him deeper into his mouth, swirling his tongue around as he swallowed more and more of Lex's cock. Lex was practically shaking from the shock and pleasure of being inside, anywhere inside, Clark. He placed a hand on either side of Clark's head and, taking Clark's low groan as encouragement, he began to thrust in earnest.

Clark opened wider and even managed to take some of Lex's length down his throat. He stuck one finger in his mouth beside Lex's cock, removed it, then slid it down to Lex's opening.

Lex thrust hard as Clark's finger began to move inside him. "Jesus. Fuck, Clark. You have to stop." He tried to pull out, but Clark's fee hand held him in place.

He came down Clark's throat and realized, a little late, that he was chanting Clark's name. Clark kissed and sucked his cock until it was drained and soft, then slid up Lex's body for a kiss.

Tasting himself on Clark was enough to make him, painfully, hard again. "You're going to kill me," he chuckled as he pulled away from Clark's mouth.

"C'mon. Let's go to bed." Clark got up and held out his hand.

Lex had a rule about taking lovers to his bed. He didn't. Not anymore. Liars and thieves and murderers could make a person cautious that way.

He realized, though, as he allowed himself to be led to the bedroom, that maybe he needed all new rules for Clark.


End file.
